


we ran as if to meet the moon

by kateandbarrel



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Space, F/M, Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-24
Updated: 2013-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-24 13:34:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/940584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kateandbarrel/pseuds/kateandbarrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Allison Argent is the mission commander of the Moon Mining Project. Her crew is an eclectic bunch, but good at their jobs. They've been in space for months with no problems - until the unimaginable happens, and the crew starts to change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we ran as if to meet the moon

Stars don’t twinkle in space.

It was something Allison had known, intellectually, but the first time she’d gotten up there into space and seen it for herself, her breath had caught. Tiny, sharp pinpricks of light, nearly swallowed by the surrounding blackness of space, and yet, almost painful to look at directly. There was nothing between those stars and her. No atmosphere, no droplets of water to bend and refract the light. The star stuff was right there for her to see, completely.

It was a sight she never tired of. And it was this sight she was losing herself in on a mundane Wednesday night when her engineer found her. 

“Nice view?” Isaac asked, and he bent over slightly to peer out of the same viewport as she was, letting his hip brush up against her arm just slightly from the movement.

Well. Her engineer, and almost-maybe-could-be-boyfriend. Someday. 

“Always is,” Allison replied, and squeezed her arms around her knees, closing in on herself in her chair. Sometimes she felt like a schoolgirl again when she was around him, instead of the seasoned NASA mission commander that she was. And that was the only thing that kept her from acting on any of her impulses when it came to Isaac Lahey. _Mission commander._ The boss. And the boss doesn’t fraternize.

“You never get tired of it, do you?” His voice was warm, and Allison smiled.

“Nope.” 

Isaac sat down in the other chair and cast a glance over the instrument panel in front of them. Most of the space station was fully automatic, and only needed the occasional input from any of the crew. Minor orbital calculation corrections, and so on. They were building the spacecraft quite well these days. And they needed to: the helium 3 they mined was of the utmost importance to Earth. Energy was the planet’s number one important resource, and the international bans of oil drilling and fracking had left little other choices but to look to space. No expense was spared when it came to the Moon Mining Project.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Isaac tapping on an analog readout, as if assuring himself that the numbers were all green, but Allison recognized it as a nervous habit. She knew he had felt… _whatever_ this was between them, too. But he wasn’t going to act on it either. They both respected the job too much.

“How are preparations for the lunar landing tomorrow?” Allison asked, changing topics.

“100 percent,” Isaac replied. “Do you want me to go with the others? Or Scott?”

“Neither of you,” Allison said. She tore her eyes away from the unmoving specks of stars and looked at Isaac. “I’m going to go.”

“You? You haven’t gone since the first touchdown, which was, what, two months ago?”

“Almost three. And that’s exactly why. Mission control wants my personnel reports soon. I should probably have something to actually tell them, so I need to get to observing everybody in their jobs.”

“I’m pretty sure mission control would accept my report on Lydia and Stiles’ performance moonside, as your second in command. You don’t have to go down there.” 

He was trying to be nice, and accommodating, which just ended up being frustrating, because Allison just wanted get off the station without too much of a fuss. 

“I’m also going a little stir crazy up here.” She offered a half smile as apology for showing this weakness as his commander.

Comprehension dawned on his face. He shrugged. “You’re the boss. If you want to waste your time writing the personnel reports, better you than me. I better go have the computer run the fuel calculations for the lander again. You weigh a lot less than me or Scott. Or Derek, for that matter. We don’t want any problems.”

He stood to leave, and Allison caught his arm with her hand, stopping him. She let go as soon as he paused. “Thanks Isaac. For humoring me.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he smiled sympathetically, but Allison could see a tinge of something bitter behind it. “I hate small spaces too.”

***

Dinner that night was a celebratory affair. Apparently Isaac had told the others Allison would be making the moon landing the next day, and they all thought that was worthy of champagne. They only had a couple bottles of the stuff, so it was a big deal to open a bottle.

But then again, after three months on a space station with the same small group of people day in and day out, any slight change in routine merited a party.

Derek made the food. Well, he heated the water and assembled the packets of ingredients. But he did it with a certain flair, and he seemed to enjoy it, so the others usually left the job to him. Even if Allison didn’t see him do anything special to it, the freeze dried astronaut grub usually tasted a little better when Derek made it.

“To our intrepid commander,” Scott said, raising his glass. He did it a little too forcefully, thanks to being on the edge of a buzz, and some sloshed down onto the floor. Allison winced and cursed the development of artificial gravity. Blobs of floating liquid would have been much easier to clean up. “She who is braving the confined spaces of the lunar module with _those two_.”

Scott pointed at Lydia and Stiles. Lydia acted offended, and Stiles drained his champagne. 

“It can’t be that bad,” Allison said, trying to be diplomatic. “We’re all here to do a job.”

The others exchanged grins. 

“I’ll just say, there’s a reason I opted out of the surface missions early on,” Derek said.

“Smart guy,” Isaac said. “Pilots are always smart. Almost as smart as engineers, anyway.”

“Well thank you Isaac, Derek and I will take that as a compliment. Won’t we?” Scott thumped Derek on the back. He rolled his eyes in response.

“What about geologists? We’re smart guys, too.” Stiles asked, shoving a forkful of NASA-approved, nutritionally complete spaghetti in his mouth. A noodle trailed out of his mouth, getting tomato sauce on his chin. Lydia made a face.

“Geology is a soft science,” Isaac replied. 

Stiles wiped the sauce off his chin with his hand. “Soft science? No way. What do you know about bioturbation? Huh?”

“I know that it’s probably not really a super important component to sticking a drill in the Moon and sucking out helium,” Isaac replied.

Stiles dropped his mouth open, acting very offended. But this was a song and dance Allison had watched her crew do many times. She knew it was part of the routine, as much as the 8 a.m. wake-up times and the weekly surface missions.

The battle of champagne was passed around until it was empty. Scott waited until the crew were suitably distracted before catching Allison’s eye and nodding towards the hallway. She followed him out, only to be engulfed in a hug as soon as they rounded a corner, out of sight of the mess hall. After a second Scott pulled away and smiled.

“What was that for?” Allison asked. 

“I just wanted to tell you how great of a commander you are,” he said. He wavered slightly on his feet. 

_Oh, well, he’s drunk,_ Allison thought, a little amused. Mission control hadn’t said anything when one of the crew had snuck those couple bottles of champagne into the food stores (and she knew that they knew), but she still hoped they never got wind of her letting her crew get inebriated. She patted Scott on the shoulder.

“I know you had doubts when you were first promoted,” he continued.

Allison blinked. She had forgotten about that. When she was given the mission, in front of the brass she’d acted confident and like she knew what she was doing. But there was uncertainty in her mind, and she’d turned to Scott for assurance. He was the first friend she’d made in the space program. 

“But I always knew you could do it,” Scott said. “You always had it in you.”

Allison smiled and blinked back tears. His words were as comforting in that moment as they had been all those years ago, when she’d knocked on his door, crying in the pouring rain.

Scott didn’t seem to expect a reply. He didn’t wait for one, anyway. “Now, I’m off to dreamland. I’m going to dream about real spaghetti. With _meat_ balls, not seaweed-tofu balls.”

Scott shuffled off down the hallway, waving goodnight.

“Thanks Scott,” she whispered to the empty spot where he’d stood.

***

Stiles and Lydia were bickering about something behind her, but Allison tuned it out. She angled her body backwards to look up at the sky. The helmets on their spacesuits weren’t very flexible, so she had to tilt her whole upper body to look up higher than 40 degrees above the horizon. Fortunately, the almost-lack of gravity on the moon made this movement relatively easy.

Allison bent backwards until she couldn’t see the moon’s surface anymore, and her entire vision was filled with the blackness of space, and its field of sharp stars. She took a deep breath. Despite the fact she merely filled her lungs with a slightly stale, recycled oxygen-nitrogen mix from her tanks, in her mind she was imagining it to be fresh air, and cold, like space. Well, not quite _that_ cold, but the sort of icy lungful of air you get on a winter morning when you live somewhere it snows. Allison had lived a lot of places in her life, including places where it snowed, but she had to admit space was her favorite.

She took another deep breath, and pretended it hurt.

“Allison?” a voice came alive in her ear. Lydia.

Allison came back to Earth - figuratively. She turned to face Lydia and Stiles, the two scientists bending over a piece of machinery permanently installed on the Moon’s surface. “Yes?” she asked, slowly hopping her way over to them, one foot to the other. She couldn’t help but grin. It had been a while since she’d done this, and had been something she’d always dreamed about since seeing those grainy Moon landing videos as a child.

“I was just wondering if you wanted to take a look at this shipment before we launch it,” Lydia said, her voice smooth and professional. She was truly in her element here on the Moon’s surface. 

Back on the station, in between landings, she was usually more of a handful. The two women had become friends, despite Allison attempting to keep that professional barrier between her and her crew, and Lydia was usually dragging Allison to her quarters to watch cheesy movies about vampires. But give Lydia something to do, preferably something that required some thinking power, and she more than rose to the challenge. Allison was glad she’d come to the Moon with them for personnel report-related reasons after all. Lydia would get a glowing report.

Of course, Stiles was another story. Allison didn’t think she’d ever heard anyone complain as much as him. He snapped up his reflective visor and leveled a glare at Lydia. “I keep telling her, the intermix ratio on the launcher is wrong.” 

“And I keep telling _him_ , he’s a geologist, so what would he know about intermix ratios?” Lydia crossed her arms primly - or as primly as she could in her bulky spacesuit.

Allison bit her lip to keep from grinning. If every landing with these two was this entertaining, she might have to go out with them more often. “Let me see,” she said, holding out placating hands to them. 

She bent over to tap at the small touchpad attached to the launcher, which sent the shipments of helium 3 back to Earth. It was important to give it the right fuel mix so it landed just how they wanted it, rather than hurtling towards Earth so violently it would explode in the atmosphere. That would be an issue. 

“The numbers looks fine to me,” Allison said. “But the ACS is throwing up a warning light.”

“What is that?” Stiles asked.

Allison laughed. “What is this, a pop quiz? I’m not that rusty. The ACS is the articulation-”

“No, that!” Stiles shouted, and hit her on the arm. Through the spacesuits and the low gravity it came out as barely a pat.

Allison stood up and turned around as quickly as she could, to see what he was pointing at. She moved just quickly enough to see the baseball-sized meteoroid as it crashed through the anterior module of the space station, blowing a chunk of shielding and hull out into space, and venting billowing air.

Lydia screamed.

***

It took twenty agonizing minutes before Allison was able to raise anyone on the station through the radio.

“Commander, we’re okay,” came a voice, sounding out of breath. “We patched the holes.”

It was Isaac. Allison closed her eyes briefly in relief, then opened them again to stare out the window. The unblinking stars weren’t comforting this time, but mocking. They were en route back to the station in the lunar lander, which meant none of the viewports were aimed at the station. She couldn’t see what was going on, and that bothered her.

“Any injuries?” Allison asked.

“No,” Isaac said. He sounded slightly calmer. “None of us were in that section. It’s just storage. We got the holes patched with the emergency kit, but…”

Allison exchanged a worried glance with Stiles over the trailed-off sentence. “But what, Isaac?”

“We lost a quarter of our air supply. We’re barely above minimums to keep a healthy recycling schedule.”

Stiles cursed under his breath. Lydia ignored him, focusing on the module’s control panel instead. Allison was glad she knew how to fly the thing, because her nerves were completely shot. 

“That’s okay,” Allison assured everyone, as well as herself. “We can manage on that until mission control sends up a shuttle with a resupply.”

“There’s something else. Something weird happened.”

“Weird? What happened?” 

“Just get back to the station. Hurry,” Isaac said, and the comm went dead.

“Isaac? Hey, Lahey, respond. Anyone!” Allison sat back in confusion when there was no response.

“What the hell is going on up there?” Stiles asked.

“We’re about to find out,” Lydia piped up, flicking a switch in front of her. “Docking procedures initiated.”

***

Nobody greeted them once they boarded the station. They shed their spacesuits and stared into the ominously dark hallway that led away from the docking port. The only light was the emergency light above the hatch. For some reason, the station lights had been turned off. Allison shouted hello into the darkness a few times, then tried her comm again. Nothing.

“This is really odd,” Lydia said.

“Is it me, or is the air really stale?” Stiles was sniffing his nose repeatedly, and Lydia smacked him.

“It’s just in your head, Stiles. You heard what Isaac said, we’re above minimums,” Allison replied. She rooted around in a nearby storage cabinet until she found what she was looking for: a flashlight. She shoved it under her arm, fished out an elastic from somewhere in her pocket, and tied her hair up into a ponytail, to keep out of her face. She took the flashlight back in hand and clicked it on, all business. “Alright, let’s go find them.”

Allison led the way, Lydia right behind her, and Stiles taking up the rear. The hallways were all pitch black, most of the emergency lights having been broken or blown out, somehow. The station’s viewports were currently rotated away from the Moon, and wouldn’t face it again for another half an hour, so until then, the flashlight was their only source of light. It leant a very unsettling vibe to the station.

As they slowly progressed through the station, Allison would shout someone’s name every so often. It wasn’t until they reached the crew quarters that she got a response.

“Here.” The voice was croaky; tired. It came from Derek’s quarters, the door of which was wide open.

The three of them crowded the doorway, and Allison swung the light into the room, illuminating a figure in the corner. It was Derek. He was sitting in the corner, his face buried into his hands.

“Derek?” Allison ventured. “What happened?”

“I don’t…” Derek sighed. “The meteoroid, it… there was something…”

“You’re not talking in full sentences there, bud,” Stiles said. “Can I get a noun?” 

Derek lifted his head. The beam of the flashlight was still focused on him, and Allison instinctively took a step backwards when his eyes flashed and reflected the light. She bumped into Lydia, whose mouth had dropped open in horror.

“Derek, what is that on your neck?” Lydia asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Derek’s hand went to his own neck, drawing Allison’s attention there. Then she saw it: thin tendrils of black snaking up his skin. It reached from beneath his shirt, crawling up his neck, and just reaching his jawbone. It was on his hands, too.

“I don’t know,” Derek said. “A piece of the meteoroid was in the ship. It...”

“There was something inside it.”

Allison, Lydia, and Stiles whipped around at the new voice from behind them. Allison shone the flashlight on the owner of said voice. It was Scott. The light reflected off his eyes too.

“There was something inside the meteoroid? Like, a prize? What something?” Stiles asked voraciously.

“Stiles,” Allison said warningly. She turned to Scott and held out a hand. He backed away from her.

“Don’t touch me,” he said.

“Okay, I won’t.” Allison dropped her hand. “What was inside it, Scott?”

“It’s some kind of goo,” he bit out. He seemed to be in pain. He closed his eyes and leaned over. “You have to go.”

“What?” Allison asked, confused. “Go where?”

“Away from us! It’s doing something-” Scott’s voice cut off as he dropped to his knees in front of them. 

There was a howl of pain, almost inhuman sounding. Allison almost took a step towards Scott, when she realized it was coming from behind them. Lydia grabbed the flashlight from her and shone it back into Derek’s quarters.

Allison had been afraid plenty of times in her life. Her first trip into space was very near the top of most terrifying moments in her life. But she’d never before felt fear so paralyzing that she couldn’t even scream. Until now.

Derek’s face had morphed into something horrible and twisted. Allison could still tell it was him, but his features were exaggerated and grotesque. His skin was taken over by the black streaks. They reached his eyes and covered his hands. His eyes were _glowing_ \- bright red. 

“Run!” Scott growled from his position on the floor. His voice didn’t sound normal.

Allison didn’t turn to see what he looked like; she didn’t want to know. She grabbed the flashlight from Lydia again and took off down the hall, expecting the others to follow. She could hear their footsteps and Stiles’ exclamations of _what the hell!_ , so she knew they were there. They came to the ladder that went to the anterior station module, and Allison began to climb.

“Wait, isn’t that where the accident happened? Where whatever it is that happened to them, happened?” Stiles asked. 

“For once, I agree with him,” Lydia said. “You saw Derek and Scott. Shouldn’t we _not_ go to where the possible biological infection is lurking?”

Allison pointed her flashlight down at them. They shielded their eyes from the beam.

“We need to help them.” Her voice betrayed the urgency she felt. She would worry about being calm and collected later. “Whatever this is, if we don’t do something fast, the others may die. And unless you have a magic cure lying around, we need to inspect that piece of meteoroid. The solution will be found in the problem.”

Lydia sighed but nodded, and Stiles threw up his hands in defeat. They both followed her up the ladder, regardless.

Inside the module was a mess. Equipment was strewn everywhere, much of it broken and in pieces. There were two spots on opposite sides of the wall with large pieces of hastily spot-welded emergency hull plates attached to them. The emergency lights, one at each end of the module, were busted.

“Jesus,” Stiles said, taking in the damage as Allison slowly moved the flashlight around the large room. “This is… wow.”

“Explosive decompression will do that,” Lydia said.

Allison’s light glinted off something sitting in the middle of the floor. It was small, grey, and definitely rock-like in appearance. “There,” she said. She took a step towards it, but Lydia grabbed her arm.

“No way, boss lady,” Lydia said. “Hold on. Shine that light over there.”

Allison did as instructed, shining the light into a corner where several boxes sat. Lydia located the box she was after, a badly bent metal storage box, and wrenched it open after a few tries. She made a pleased noise and pulled out a neon yellow full body contamination suit.

“I forgot we had those,” Allison said sheepishly.

“Yeah, I noticed,” Lydia smiled into the light. She pulled on the suit, one leg at a time, somehow managing to look graceful while doing it. “Lucky for you, I was a double major. Physics _and_ biology.”

“Wait, I know rocks, I should investigate it,” Stiles said.

“You know rocks on _Earth_.” Lydia pulled on the hood and zipped it to the suit’s body. It didn’t have its own air tank, but she hopefully wouldn’t need to be in there for long. 

“And the Moon,” Stiles grumbled, but let Lydia go ahead.

Allison shone the light back on the rock chunk to provide Lydia light. From her position of ten feet away, she could just see some of the goo that Scott had mentioned. It was black, like the marks on Derek’s body. Lydia kneeled down and stared at it. She grabbed a nearby twisted piece of metal that had broken off of some piece of machinery or another, and used it to prod at the goo.

Allison was quite sure the scientific method was being tossed out the window, but right now, it didn’t matter. She watched as Lydia, well, _played_ with the goo. 

“What are you doing?” Allison asked.

“It’s not a liquid,” Lydia said. She twirled the piece of metal, and some of the goo clung to it before falling off and plopping down into the little pile in the rock. “It’s definitely biological.”

“You’re really narrowing it down,” Stiles said sarcastically.

“Stiles,” Allison hissed.

“What?” Stiles retorted. “Do you know about any space goo? Liquid or not? This is completely alien, whatever it is.”

“I need a microscope,” Lydia announced, and stood up. “And a gas spectrometer. But we don’t have one of those on the station, so a microscope will have to do.”

Allison looked behind her, to where the ladder led down into the darkness below. Scott and Derek were down there, and they were transforming into… something. And Isaac - they hadn’t seen him, but he definitely hadn’t sounded normal on the comm. She really didn’t want to have to go back out there. They had no defenses. But, it had to be done.

Allison swallowed. “Okay. I’ll have to get it.”

“What? How?” Stiles asked. “The guys are acting like crazed psycho murderers out there.”

“You don’t know that,” Allison said sharply. “They’re just sick. Infected.”

“Infected with what, though? Alien hellspawn? They growled at us and told us to run away from them, I think that’s pretty good reason to stay away.”

Allison let out a laugh of frustration. “What do you want me to do, Stiles? Lydia needs the microscope. I have to go get it.”

“Let me distract them,” Stiles said.

She blinked. “What?”

“The science lab is on the other side of the crew quarters. If you let me through first, I’ll draw them away. Then you can get there safely.”

“No, I can’t let you do that,” Allison said softly.

“Yes, you can,” Stiles replied. He bounced on his toes, trying to appear nonchalant. “Look, we all have a role to play, right? Let me do this.”

“Alright,” Allison finally agreed. “But you be careful, okay? I’ll still need my geologist when this is over.”

Stiles grinned. “Don’t worry, self-preservation is a very strong instinct of mine.”

“Do you want the light?”

“No, you’ll need it. Besides, I know this ship like the back of my hand. My father designed it, you know.”

Allison was surprised. “No, I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah. He was never an astronaut himself, but, he always wanted to be. He was kinda my inspiration.”

Allison smiled at him. “I’m sure he’s proud of you.”

Stiles shrugged, a little embarrassed. “Okay, I’ll go first. Follow behind me, but not close enough to be seen.”

Allison nodded. Stiles started down the ladder.

“Good luck,” Lydia called. “I’ll just stay here with the goo.”

***

The trek back through the station was more nerve-wracking than the first time, now that Allison knew what had happened to half her crew. And that they lay lurking in the shadows somewhere, deformed. No longer human…

She shook her head at herself. _Head in the game, Allison._ One hand gripped her flashlight tightly, the light pressed against her stomach so only a little leaked out. Just enough to make her way through the hallways without banging into everything and making a racket. 

Her other hand gripped a twisted shard of metal with a very sharp end to it. It had been on the floor in the anterior module, near the ladder. She’d grabbed it up as soon as she saw it, before making her way down. Allison had never been much of a self-defense kind of person, but she felt at ease holding the makeshift weapon.

Allison heard Stiles up ahead, calling out for the others, but he wasn’t receiving a reply. She saw they were near the crew quarters, the last place they’d seen Scott and Derek. There was still no sign of Isaac, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad sign. But she was sorely missing his stoic, comforting presence just then. 

There was a startled shout, and then Stiles making some sort of sarcastic comment. Allison couldn’t make out what he said, but the tone was unmistakable. Stiles was talking to someone. She halted, straining her ears, but the ever-present hum of the electricity running through the ship filtered out the low sounds of speech. After a moment there was a thunderous bang, and Allison nearly dropped the items in her hands. Stiles was shouting now, _Derek, come on, calm down_ , and then he must have taken off running, because there was some shuffling noises which turned into more shouts that faded with a growing distance. He was leading Derek away, like they’d planned. What about Scott? She wasn’t sure if Scott had been there too, but there was nothing to be done about it now. She had to move forward.

She got to the crew quarters, which were abandoned and even more of a mess than when they’d first come through. There was a huge dent in the small metal table in the middle of the room, that they liked to sit around to play cards. It was a solid table made of steel, and welded to the floor. Allison couldn’t even fathom the strength that would be needed to make a dent in it. She shuddered, and hurried out of the crew quarters as quick as she could.

Allison made her way to the science lab easily enough, and didn’t encounter anyone along the way. She poked her head inside. Empty. Stiles had obviously led his pursuer away from the lab. She slipped inside and closed the door gently behind her. She swung the flashlight around, moving from table to table. Fortunately this room was untouched, and she found the microscope easily enough. She grabbed a nearby duffel bag and put the microscope inside, remembering at the last minute to grab slides as well. She turned to leave when she noticed the medical fridge by the door. Allison threw it open. It had some bags of saline, but also some antibiotics and morphine tablets, among other things. Nothing they’d had to use at all, but it was sort of a just-in-case measure. 

_Thank God for congressional overspending,_ Allison thought. She took everything, carefully placing the bags of saline and small glass bottles of antibiotics and painkillers into a side pocket of the duffel. She searched through a couple nearby cabinets until she found some hypodermic needles, and stuck those in the bag as well.

As she was zipping up the bag, there was a noise behind her. Allison froze, her eyes flying to her impromptu metal weapon. It was on a nearby table, not quite within arm’s reach. She didn’t want to make any sudden moves towards it.

“It’s the light.” 

Allison jerked at the sound of the voice. Gravelly, almost not human anymore. She turned slowly, making sure in the process to move herself closer to her weapon, until it was close enough to grab, should she need it. She faced the owner of the voice.

“Isaac,” Allison said, shocked. His eyes were glowing, like Derek’s, but more of a gold color. She didn’t see any black marks on his neck, but there were a couple streaks peeking out beneath the arms of his t-shirt. “Oh my God.”

“Break the flashlight, Allison,” he ground out between gritted teeth. 

She looked over at the light, sitting on the floor, but aimed towards their legs. Just enough light shone upwards to see his face. “I don’t understand,” she said.

“Something about the light, it accelerates the reaction.” Isaac was clenching and unclenching his hands. “That’s why I turned off all the station lights.”

Allison quickly reached over and clicked the off button on the light. As soon as it was dark, Isaac sighed in relief. It was almost black but for his glowing eyes, and it unnerved her. 

“Give me the flashlight,” he said.

“Why?” Allison asked, nervous.

“Because it’s dangerous.”

Allison wasn’t sure what to do, and - remembering the dented table - she didn’t want to upset Isaac, so she handed over the light. He promptly swung the face of it into something and smashed it. The shards of glass fell to the floor with a series of tinkling noises. Then Isaac threw the carcass of the flashlight onto the floor.

“Better,” he said. “Dark is the only way to slow it.”

“Derek is in a bad way,” Allison said. “He didn’t look like Derek anymore.”

“I saw him,” Isaac replied. “After we repaired the ship, I went to the control room. It’s darker in there. But Derek, and Scott… they were exposed to more light. It’s moved faster in them.”

“Well, we might be able to help them. And you. I need to get this stuff back to Lydia. Can you help me?”

“Yes, but hurry. Darkness slows it, but it doesn’t _stop_ it.”

Allison groped in the dark for her weapon, holding it and the bag close to her chest.

“Follow me,” Isaac said. She heard his footsteps move towards the door.

“Wait,” she called. “I can’t see a thing!”

There was a pause. “I can,” Isaac said, almost in wonderment, or as much of it as his low voice would allow. “I didn’t even realize… I haven’t had a problem. Some kind of night vision. Like a - a mutation.”

“Well, I’m still human, so I need a bit of help.” Allison’s retort was acidic, and she cringed at herself, regretting it immediately. “I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant.”

“It’s okay.” Isaac’s glowing eyes were growing larger - he was moving closer to her - and she felt his breath across her face. “Does Lydia have a plan?”

“Less of a plan. More of an idea.” Allison couldn’t look into those glowing eyes anymore, so she closed her own. “Just, lead me to the anterior module please?”

“I will,” Isaac said, but he didn’t make any indication of acting on that promise. Instead, he brought his hand to her cheek, cupping it lightly. He stroked his thumb across her cheek. Allison couldn’t help but lean into his touch. “I want to kiss you,” he said. 

Allison opened her eyes again at the declaration. It wasn’t something Isaac would have normally admitted to her. The skin of his hand was hot, a burning caress on her face, his body obviously fighting the infectious invaders with all its might. It was a reminder to Allison that Isaac was sick; her crew was _sick_ , and needed her help. She clasped her own hand over his, and pulled it away. 

“We need to go,” she said.

Isaac led her out of the lab.

***

They made it almost all the way back before the first streaks of moonlight poured in through the viewports.

Isaac stopped dead in his tracks when he saw them. Allison slammed into his back. 

“What-?” She cut herself off when she realized she was regaining her vision. She could make out Isaac’s silhouette in front of her. She moved around him and saw pale light crawling across the far wall. “The Moon!”

The station was rotating around, as part of its usual cycle. They would be bathed in the Moon’s light for forty five minutes, until it rotated away again, when the station would be plunged back into darkness.

Isaac whirled around, his eyes now fiercely red, the color of blood. Allison dropped the duffel and gripped her weapon. “Isaac, run. Get out of here. I can make it the rest of the way.”

But it was too late. There was too much light, and it was growing stronger with every second, far stronger than her flashlight had been. Isaac didn’t seem to be aware of who he was anymore, and the black streaks were creeping up his face. He growled at her.

“Stay back!” Allison shouted, and jabbed at the air between them with her metal weapon, but he didn’t seem intimidated.

He howled, a half-human half-animal sound, and it sent a horrified shiver down her spine. Isaac began circling around her, hunched over, a distinctly predatory look in his eyes. He held up his hands menacingly, and she saw with shock that his nails had grown and become claw-like. He was mutating before her eyes.

Allison didn’t want to do it. She didn’t want to hurt him. She didn’t want to hurt any of her crew, but especially not him. Isaac was her second in command, her stalwart confidante, her kinda-maybe-almost-boyfriend-someday. But he lunged at her, claws splayed out, and she did what she had to do. What survival made her do.

She stabbed Isaac in the chest.

The twisted shard of metal jutted out from his body, and he looked down at it in confusion. She knew she hadn’t gotten his heart - she was too far to the side - but after a moment of shock, he dropped to the ground. Blood pooled underneath him, and he whined and jerked on the ground. Allison held a hand over her mouth. She tried to move, but she couldn’t.

“Allison!” 

She didn’t even register the voice, not until Stiles came up next to her and shook her. She blinked and looked into his eyes, wonderfully brown eyes in the cold moonlight, not gold or red, and she almost sobbed with relief.

“Stiles!” 

“Yeah, no time for chit chat. I was playing hide and seek with Scott and Derek when they heard Isaac’s howl and took off. They can’t be far behind me.”

Allison grabbed the duffel off the floor, casting a last look towards Isaac. His eyes were closed, but his hands were twitching. _Please, let him live,_ she thought, and took off towards where Lydia was, Stiles hot on her heels.

***

When they got back to Lydia, her face was as pale as the moonlight. 

“I kept hearing banging and wailing noises,” she said as she unpacked all the supplies Allison had brought. “I was starting to freak out.”

“Just a few snags, nothing to worry about,” Stiles said smoothly. He guided Allison to a chair, which she dropped into heavily. She’d never been more thankful for being babied. Once he seemed sure she wasn’t going to pass out right there, he went to Lydia’s side to help.

Allison watched them as Stiles set up the microscope, and followed Lydia’s instructions, fetching things and writing down numbers or details she called out. She felt a little faint from all the activity. And hot…

Allison wiped at the sweat on her brow, only to bring her hand away from her face in disbelief. There was a long black streak climbing down her arm and reaching almost all the way to her hand. She jumped up in horror and edged into a corner, the darkest corner that she could find.

“Allison?” Stiles asked, pausing with his pencil hand mid-air.

“I’ve been infected,” she said, and was surprised at how low her own voice sounded.

Lydia turned to look at her, her eyebrows knitted together in concern. “Allison? No!”

“Just, hurry,” Allison said. She knelt down in the corner. She realized now why Derek had been hiding in the corner of his room. Fear. It filled every inch of her, it made her fingers and toes tingle, and all she wanted to do was run away. She wanted to run away from Stiles and Lydia, but most of all, she wanted to run away from the moonlight. It vibrated, shining brighter with every passing second, burning its way into her eyes. She buried her face into her hands, ignoring the shouts between Lydia and Stiles as they worked faster.

Allison whimpered. How could the stars do this to her? How could they bring this menace to her doorstep? Who could have thought those ceaselessly shining pinpricks of light could have been hiding such a horror?

She felt herself losing control, felt the blackness spreading through her veins, and her entire being. She didn’t notice when Stiles and Lydia’s voices grew nearer; didn’t notice when one of them grabbed her arm. She did, however, notice the painful jab and the icy cold feeling spreading out through her arm.

Allison growled at them, not even realizing what she was doing. It was some kind of instinct. The two of them backed away. 

The cold spread over her body, the chilled feeling as painful now as the heat had been before. Eventually the cold spread to her stomach, and up her esophagus - then she was retching, on her hands and knees, painful movements that evacuated a glutenous, vile black sludge from deep within her.

“Oh, gross,” Stiles exclaimed, the sounds he made finally entering her consciousness as words that she could understand.

“Just for that,” Allison said between chattering teeth, “you get to clean it up.”

“Allison?” Lydia asked tentatively. “Are you in there?”

She groaned and flopped over, rolling away from the black sludge she’d puked up. She looked up at the ceiling, bathed in white moonlight, which looked normal again. Not painful to look at. “I think so,” she replied. She tried to sit up, but every part of her hurt.

“Don’t move,” Lydia said. “This is a pretty vile brew I injected you with. Basically an immune system reset. I’m glad you thought to grab that penicillin. That was helpful.”

“It’s spread by touch,” Allison said weakly. “It must be. Isaac touched me.”

“I figured that out,” Lydia said airily. “You’re not dealing with an amateur, here.”

“Nobody touched me?”

“Shit, I touched you!” Stiles said. “I helped you sit down.”

“I was watching,” Lydia said. “You just touched her on the arm, through her shirt. It needs skin on skin contact.”

“You’re sure?” 

“You’re fine, Stiles.” Lydia rolled her eyes. 

“Okay, good,” Stiles heaved a sigh of relief. “So, how are we gonna get this into Scott, Derek, and Isaac?”

His question was met with silence.

“Don’t all answer me at once,” he exclaimed.

Memories came flooding back to Allison. “Isaac, oh God, I stabbed him.”

Lydia perked up. “You did? Where is he?”

“I’ll show you,” Allison said, dragging herself up, ignoring the pain her movements caused. She could recuperate later, when this was over.

She led the way to Isaac, who was still whimpering on the ground where she’d left him. His features were fully changed now. Dark from the black sludge within him, and monstrous. He’d managed to pull the metal out of his chest, then curled up in a ball.

Lydia, who was still wearing the biohazard suit, crept up to him. He showed no signs of knowing she was there. She quickly stabbed him in the arm with a hypodermic, and depressed the plunger. He whined, but otherwise didn’t move. The three of them backed away to watch.

While they waited, Derek and Scott showed up. They crept into the room, as fully mutated as Isaac was, their faces nearly unrecognizable. They were walking on their hands and feet, awkwardly, but still animal-like. Allison, Stiles, and Lydia backed up while the two of them circled Isaac. Then, they did something surprising. They ripped off Isaac’s shirt where his wound was, and licked at it.

“Fascinating,” Lydia whispered. “They’re like animals taking care of the wounded.” 

Allison and Stiles exchanged twin looks of repulsion.

The three of them stood like that for a few minutes, watching the grooming ritual take place. Eventually, the medicine began to work on Isaac, and although he was still mostly unconscious, his body’s reactions still caused him to vomit up the same black sludge that Allison had. 

Derek and Scott growled and backed away.

“How are we gonna get those two?” Stiles whispered.

“I think we just need to wait,” Lydia said.

Allison was confused, but she should know by know that Lydia always knows what she’s talking about. After a moment, Scott fell over on the floor, and began to vomit the sludge. Derek wasn’t far behind.

“What. The. Hell.” Stiles spoke Allison’s thoughts aloud.

“It was in the blood,” Lydia smirked. “They licked it up. Gross, but effective.”

“You couldn’t have told us that would happen?” Allison asked.

“I wasn’t sure it would. It was just a hunch.”

Allison shook her head, and slid down the wall, exhaustion overtaking her. Scott and Derek were both making moaning noises on the other side of the room, and Lydia went to check on them, hypodermic needle held aloft in case they needed additional shots. Stiles went to Isaac’s side to check on him.

“Hey, this wound is almost healed!” Stiles said, amazed.

“Side effect of the infection,” Lydia called over while poking at Derek’s neck, feeling for swollen glands. “Rapid cell growth and regeneration. It’s how they could mutate so quickly.”

Allison felt her eyes drift close. Isaac would be okay. She didn’t kill him. Scott and Derek would be fine. Lydia and Stiles were in control.

“Stiles,” Allison said. Her eyes were still closed, so she waited until she felt Stiles come close to her to speak again. “Would you please go reset the station lights, before we’re plunged into darkness again? Full blast. I’m talking every light on the station at max. I’m tired of the dark.”

“Aye, commander,” Stiles said, and she heard the grin in his voice.

Crisis averted.

***

Derek and Scott had bounced back quickly, seemingly more embarrassed by their behavior than anything else. They hadn’t remembered licking Isaac’s bloody stab wound, but Stiles was happy to regale them with the full story in all its gory details. Derek threatened to clock Stiles if he ever told anyone what had happened, and the threat only made Stiles laugh. Derek was all bark, and no bite.

Allison took slightly longer to feel like herself again, but she put a lot of that down to shock. All her time training for this job had never covered a scenario even remotely like this one. But her crew had come out alive at the other end of it, so she felt like it was a job well done.

Isaac took the longest of all of them. Although his wound had mostly healed thanks to the regenerative powers of _whatever_ it was that had infected them, it hadn’t healed all the way, so Lydia had restricted him to bedrest for a couple days. 

Allison sat next to him on his bed, filling him in on all the bits of the whole mess he’d missed or didn’t remember. 

“There’s one thing I don’t understand,” Isaac said after she’d finished. “How’d you get infected?”

Allison had glossed over that part. She knew he didn’t remember, and wasn’t sure if it was worth potential embarrassment to bring it up. 

“You touched me,” she said.

“I touched you?” 

Her eyes fell to their hands, intertwined and laying on his bedspread. She hadn’t even noticed that it had happened. Did she seek out his hand, or had he sought out hers? Did it even matter? Allison didn’t care anymore. To hell with rules. They just survived something insane. Something alien and deadly and terrifying. They were allowed this, she thought.

“On the cheek.” She smiled. She paused, but decided to share the other part of what happened in that science lab. “You said you wanted to kiss me.”

His eyes went wide. “I said that.”

She nodded. Actually, she was sort of enjoying this. He looked mortified that he’d have told his commander that he wanted to kiss her. He tried to pull his hand away, but she wouldn’t let him.

“It’s okay, Isaac.”

Allison leaned down, her face close to his. His eyes were back to normal - cool blue, a welcome change from blood red. She liked cold things. The cold of space, the cold air of winter, the cold crawl of life-saving medicine through veins. Cold was nice.

Allison kissed him, her lips pressed against his. It was a soft kiss, but sure, and full of promise. 

She pulled back, and he smiled. “What was that for?” he asked.

“Apology, for stabbing you,” she replied.

“If you think one kiss is going to make up for that, you’re sorely mistaken.” His grin was lecherous, and Allison might have done something about that if the slightest movement didn’t make him wince in pain.

“Soon, Lahey,” she said. 

Isaac held up their intertwined fingers. “I’m holding you to that.”

***

EPILOGUE

Lydia and Stiles had used a biohazard container to gather up the rock chunk and black goo, and sealed it up. They also used the toxic waste cleanup kit to take care of everyone’s black sludge vomit. Allison had particularly enjoyed listening to them squabble over who would have to do that disgusting duty, before they agreed to just do it together. Teamwork could be a wonderful thing.

With the lights and station system fully restored, Allison had gotten on the comm with mission control. They were worried about the radio silence, but she gave them an abbreviated version of what happened. Mission control said they would scramble a rescue mission and replacement crew. Their stints on the Moon Mining Project were all ending early.

Allison was a bit sad about that, but at the same time, not _too_ sad. She thought she might like to see the stars twinkle again, through the atmosphere on Earth. 

And maybe Isaac would like to see them with her.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from a poem by Robert Frost, "Going for Water."
> 
> I have to give major credit to the following two picspams on tumblr, which inspired this fic: [one](http://wolfclawed.tumblr.com/post/32162530391/teen-wolf-au-science-fiction-the-young-biologist) & [two](http://truesouls.tumblr.com/post/59034381535). This fic is a culmination of some ideas I've had bouncing around in my head for a while, but also very inspired by the imagery of these picspams.


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